


Not that Kind of Woman

by MashUpGames



Series: Tales of the Champion [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Broody Fenris (Dragon Age), Emotional Hurt, F/M, Family Feels, Fenris (Dragon Age) is Bad at Feelings, Hawke & Varric Tethras Friendship, Hawke (Dragon Age) is Bad at Feelings, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Isabela being Isabela (Dragon Age), Isabela is a Good Friend, Leandra is a Good Mom, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Purple Hawke, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Warden Bethany Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 05:58:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18910969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashUpGames/pseuds/MashUpGames
Summary: The relationship between Fenris and Hawke falls apart after their one night together, and they both tell themselves different reasons why.





	Not that Kind of Woman

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more pain in their falling out than the game gave me, so I made some, and now I'm sharing it. You're welcome.

Fenris left her. One night was all it took for everything to fall apart, apparently, and she couldn't help feeling like it was all her fault. Fenris told her he hadn't been with anyone, didn't remember any kind of intimacy that might have existed before the markings. Maybe if she had taken a step back, taken a breath to pause, asked him if he had really wanted to, this wouldn't have happened, maybe nothing would have changed between them. They could still be friends, they could still flirt, still have each other.....but he didn't want her now. Marian had been blinded by her own desire, her own feelings of safety. She had been so glad, so elated that this time she would be with someone who hadn't hurt her, who would never hurt her, that she hadn't seen whatever signs Fenris had been giving her that he was uncomfortable. She had been so self absorbed she hadn't even known something was wrong until he was already in his armor, out of bed and away from her. How could she have been so stupid, so selfish? Maker, she was no better than Revas was.

She had never meant to hurt Fenris, she had tried to convince him to stay, to talk with her, tell her what she'd done wrong. Looking at him across the room felt like looking over a chasm, his soul was so far away from her. He had closed himself from off, put up the walls he had previously let down, let her see inside. Then she hurt him, and the walls came back up. Revas had been a kind of monster she never thought she would be. She had been wrong. So, so very wrong. 

It was far too late to fix anything. She couldn't go back and stop herself from taking his hand and following him upstairs any more than she could stop Carver from charging for the ogre. The best she could do now would be to leave him alone. He probably didn't even want to be anywhere near her at all, at this point. She would just have to get used to his absence, and probably handle it about as well as she handled loosing Papa and Carver. The gaping pain in her chest would numb eventually. That's what the Chantry Mothers always told her anyway. Until then, she would do what she had done every other time she found herself with a broken heart. Watery-eyed and sniffling, she made her way out of her bedroom, pulling her sleeping robe tighter around herself. Shuffling to the balcony railing, she leaned down, and saw no one in the foyer. She heard Sandal banging things around in the kitchen, probably looking for food. 

"Mama?" She called, her voice wavering. Maker, she hoped she was home. Sandal always cheered her up, but he wasn't the best at giving advice. 

Leandra knew what that tone meant, and rushed from the library up the stairs. Like most mothers, she had learned what the different cries of her babies usually meant. Tired, hungry, dirty, she could understand them all, and it still held true, even as they grew up. Marian rarely let herself do anything that was solely for her, and that included even romantic entanglements. Seeing her eldest daughter's tear streaked face almost broke her heart. Leandra hadn't been told of any suitors, and most of the nobles she had introduced her to knew nothing of real combat, something her child relished. She threw her arms around her, rocking and shushing as Marian began crying in earnest this time, and wondered which of the wild friends she ran with had broken her baby's heart. 

Across Hightown, in his own mansion, Fenris wondered if he had truly done what was wise. He was plagued by doubt. He had spent a wonderful night with an amazing woman, and then rejected all her further advances before dawn had even arrived. It was a cowardly move, to put on his armor and leave before the fire had even gone out, but he hadn't been able to handle it. He couldn't think of any solution other than running. The rush of memories that had hit him like a maul were disjointed, without context or sequence. Not knowing what was going on made his skin crawl, made him want to scream and claw the lyrium out of his body, strip flesh from bone. It reminded him too much of the rituals Denarius had performed. 

He paced, trying to work off the nervous energy. He wasn't angry enough to start throwing wine bottles, yet not sullen enough to drink them. He was at a terrible impasse, but he tried to comfort himself with the knowledge that Marian wouldn't be hurt for very long. As much as it stung to admit, even to himself, but the truth was his only saving grace at the moment. Marian would not hold a candle for him. She had been flirting with him since the night they met, and her open affection with him and the others of their company was likely to return soon. Marian never stayed upset for very long, and it was unlikely that the end of their...whatever it could be called, would affect her very much. Even Bethany had mentioned that her sister had not cried at her brothers death, though without a doubt he had been much loved by her. Marian would be fine, his leaving her would not affect her very much or for very long. 

After three weeks without seeing her, however, he was no longer so sure. According to Varric, she had been fine, if a bit melancholy. But if she were alright, wouldn't she have come to see him by now? She had told him before that she felt better having another swordsman taking point with her, and Avelien could only leave her post for so long before having to return. Surely he hadn't spurned their friendship when he ended their intimacy. Had he? 

"What has magic touched that it does not spoil?"

He winced at the memory. He had been angry, full of hate and loathing and spitting at everything that caught his attention. Unfortunately, Marian always caught his attention. She hadn't deserved that, and just because he had apologized didn't mean she really forgave him. He was an idiot to think she would dismiss his words so easily. Her father had been a mage, as well as her now-Warden sister Bethany. Her love and respect for them was as wide and deep as the sea, and if she wasn't the embodiment of all that magic didn't corrupt, he was a fool indeed. Perhaps he had been a fool anyway, to leave her so completely as he had. The Abomination spent even more time glaring at him, while the Blood Mage just gave him these sad, pitying looks. Marian had spoken to and seen everyone in their little band of misfits but him, and he was starting to wonder if disappearing might be the best option-if not the only one-left to him. It was Isabella who finally said something useful, surprisingly. 

"You know, Fenris, there are different types of women." She drawled, sliding gracefully into the chair across from him. How the pirate managed to make even the depilated mansion seem like a palace he didn't know. 

"I have noticed." He answered, waiting for her to get to the point. 

"Actually, I'm not sure you have. You see, the ladies in the Blooming Rose-"

"I have no interest in prostitutes." He snapped, taking a long pull from the wine in his hand. 

Isabella glared at him, giving up on whatever game she had planned on and spoke bluntly. "I know that Fenris, and Hawke doesn't either. In fact, you're the only person I've seen her look twice at since we met, and I've known her for years."

He ignored the way his chest tightened at the news. He had known Marian had rejected the Abomination, but he hadn't paid any other attention to where her affections may or may not have gone. The flirting with Varric didn't count, because the Dwarf flirted with himself and his crossbow, and Fenris had heard her actually challenge it to a duel 'to win the right to wed the magnificent chest-hair'. Marian had been shockingly sober that card game. 

"Fenris, whatever happened between you two, neither of you are taking about it to anyone, and I'll bet gold that includes each other. Hawke isn't the kind to have fun with just anyone, she cares about you a lot, and whatever happened is eating her, and not in a good way."

He scowled at her, not appreciating the vulgar joke, but said nothing. He couldn't go back and stop himself from leaving her, anymore than he could go back and stop himself from killing the fog warriors he had come to consider friends. He still couldn't handle not understanding the rush of almost-knowing, of almost remembering. Not knowing what was going on around him pushed his mind back to Tevinter, back with Denarius. It made him afraid, and fear made him violent. If he killed Marian, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.


End file.
